My Dog, Dallas, Defined My Life And I Wouldn’t Change It For Anything.
For 14 years 5 months and 21 days, everyday of our shared lives we breathe in unison of what each day would be like. Dallas gave me contentment of love and stability. I wouldn’t change a thing.
Dallas and I had adventures together to places we both never knew then. Places we loved or fled. We disagreed on a lot of issues. We worked them out because we saw our points of view or simply thought the other so stupid. I wouldn’t change a thing.
Dallas told me on many occasions I was doing the wrong thing…. nagged me for closing the car window too soon, scolded me when I reduced her meal portions, berated me for mistakenly applied tea tree oil for kefir as toothpaste. Yet, I wouldn’t change a thing.
Dallas knew when I get confused on unfamiliar trails, and she would lead me back to the car. She found and pointed that a sweater hanging from a tree on that familiar trail was mine. She helped dug a large planter voluntarily. I never would change a thing.
Dallas obsessed with fishing would stay for hours in the water. The first chum salmon she caught in Kodiak she offered it to me. We fished for more and she patiently waited while I cook her dinner. I never would change these things.
Dallas gave me hell the first two years of adolescence. Pulled her leash on walks, ignored my calls, chewed most of her leashes, quarreled with other dogs. I would have changed some things.
Dallas continued to show her independent spirit and street smarts throughout her years. I wouldn’t ever want a human child for she displayed behaviors I had. Stubbornness for one. I wouldn’t trade her for anything.
Around 7 the morning on Sunday of February 28th, 2021, I saw her on that surgery table, opened up and unconscious. The doctor confirmed that she wouldn’t have made it with the tumors in her spleen and part of the liver with tumor bleeding out. Stroking her face while disbelieving what just happened was never detected before. I would want to change these things.
Oh how I long to bring her home! Oh how I long to hold her tight and how I could keep her body to maintain her presence so I won’t get lost. But I would have to settle for ashes. I would want to change these things.
One last visit that Sunday afternoon. She lied in repose, permanently asleep, but soft as ever. I told her no more snowballs in her front paws.
My puppy, my baby girl, like I promise always, I’ll be back for you. I never would change you for anything.